The Girl Made of Stone
by Black-Boots-And-Skinny-Jeans
Summary: He didn't want anyone calling him Carl, he didn't like the way it sounded anymore. He didn't like the way the only time anyone ever said his name anymore they were angry, he hadn't liked the tone they'd associated it with. He wanted to be known as a human, and they weren't offering that. [Carl/OC]
1. Prologue

She liked a lot of things, she liked the way peanut butter would stick to the roof of her mouth, she liked the stars and how they refused to stop shinning, she liked the sound of the sun and how loud the world was to become. She liked a lot of things, she did. That much hadn't changed. That much would never change. No matter how bad the world got, she'd always like the color of the sky as the sun was setting, and she'd always like the smell of burning wood on a specifically dark night. The world was different now, people were changing, she was changing, but not completely because deep inside she'd secretly like the moon, and how it split off into different growing fragments of crystalized memories too sweet for the bitter world to ever succumb to, and how she'd only ever become an epitome of light at night, when the world was threatening to dim her smile. She'd never stop smiling, no matter how many zombies threatened to kill her, because even though she lost a lot of things she had managed to save who she was.

She wasn't always happy, and she didn't always think she could make it. She'd been able to sugar coat her situation when her mother was still alive, sticking her neck out to save her. That's all she'd ever wanted, even before the apocalypse. You see her mother had gotten pregnant with her at a relatively young age, and at sixteen with a newborn baby on your hands didn't give you enough time to prepare for what was in store, yet that didn't stop her. She'd only ever wanted to save her from who she was predestined to become, and what would inevitably kill her in the end. She'd succeeded in a way, or at least for the moment. She was still alive and her mother had died saving her, she'd died for a purpose and she was sure as hell not going to waste it.

Her mother's death had led her into one of her darkest times, she was certain she wouldn't pull through but she did, she always did. She was only twelve when it happened, since then she'd went from group to group, but she was mainly by herself. That was until she found a place that looked promising, but like every other thing in this god forsaken world it had been a lie. The hope she'd had, had been soiled just like every other possibility her little brain could have thought up.

But it was a lie that had led her to where she was now, and she wasn't sure she was so upset about that lie anymore, because it had stretched and manifested into a will that gave her a little something to hold onto. She'd found a prison, not on her own of course and saying she found said prison would definitely be stretching it. In honesty she didn't find anything, she sat back and she watched the events pan out on her shrinking timeline. It wasn't more of she found them, as it was they found her.

They took her to some place safe, some place she believed in. And for the first time, she wasn't the only one. There were many people there, some her age others older but they were all equal in a sense. They were all just people trying to survive, whether she be quite a few years younger than them she was still just a person trying to survive and that had to count for something.

She was only fourteen, she was close to turning fifteen but then again she wasn't so sure. She didn't have a watch, or a remote way of telling the time. She'd let it slip her and now the only thing she wanted, the only thing she needed was the time. She didn't want the ones she loved back, as cruel as that sounds, it was the truth. She didn't want them to come back and find the world as it is, she wanted them to die remembering the world as it was. If anyone asked her what she'd missed most she might say books, or school, perhaps family, and then she'd remember the bad moments, the ones she didn't want back and she'd always find herself second guessing, but one thing she'd never have to be unsure about was the time.

She was a stony faced girl, with long legs and a once large heart. Her smile had become a forgotten line that once possessed her lips, her hair fell in tangled tresses down her shoulders, and her eyes, oh her eyes were foggy glimpses of the past and memories you'd forgotten and never wanted to remember. She was a walking tragedy many tried to avoid, and she didn't blame them. She had this habit of stirring up the worst in others, one that had originated from so much time alone in her twisted head.

She wasn't evil. Three words that were taken for granite, we think of good and bad as black and white. We classify death as bad, and fortune as good. We use the terms lightly but he knew the truth. He knew that good and evil wasn't so black and white after all, he'd known that there was only one kind of evil in this world and she certainly was not it. He'd never put so much faith into somebody he'd hardly known, but even with her daunting smirk, and uneasy glare, he knew. When all of his reasons ran dry, and he was sure she'd turn on them all, he knew, he'd went against himself, took leaps and bounds, guesses and measures. He'd never been so certain before. She was a good person, going through circumstance. They all did, this was just another phase in life molding her into the person she was to be. The universe had them all at their fingertips, shaping them into mere embodiments of light that flickered and wavered at all the wrong times. Deep down they were all still there, because no matter how much circumstance they'd gone through the universe had made sure, that everyone still had a part of themselves to hang onto and those who survived knew just what part of them it was.

 _Andromedia Steele_

He mulled over the words, flipped them around in his mind, spoke them aloud so often they'd lost meaning. After all they were just words, two words he'd never forgot. It was the first time he heard her speak, and after a while he'd almost assumed it would be last time he would ever hear her speak. She didn't like him, she didn't like anyone. She lived in her own little world, and who was he to mess with that?

He was the sheriff's son, he was the boy who wore a hat, he was the annoyingly little kid. He had title's that refused to shake, and memories that no matter what didn't budge. He was still there. And to be honest, what more can you really say? You could rant, or make powerful speech's no one would ever hear. It wouldn't matter because you can't talk to people who aren't listening. He was here, he was living in the now, and he was alive.

That didn't mean he wanted to be the annoying little kid who got into everyone's way, because not only had the sound kid became distasteful to his ears, but he didn't want to be classified by his father's title or his once favorite hat anymore. He wanted to burn the memories, and he wanted to be known as a person. He didn't want anyone calling him Carl, he didn't like the way it sounded anymore. He didn't like the way the only time anyone ever said his name anymore they were angry, he hadn't liked the tone they'd associated it with. He wanted to be known as a human, and they weren't offering that. But she was.

She understood in a way no one else did. He didn't know that at the time, and he didn't understand when she'd explained but he knew that now and he knew he would swap a million yesterdays for just one tomorrow with her. The others had called it a crush, infatuation manifesting over a thought that had been implanted in his head as he grew. But it wasn't a crush, it was a growing satisfaction that she knew more than she let on. Seeing her was a relief, just another load off of his crumbling shoulders. She'd showed him how it was possible to bear the weight of memory but share it with others, she'd shown him that what once was didn't have to be a bitter memory you looked back upon for just one last chance. It could be something that provided you with a power that you'd never be able to understand, and to be honest, you don't need to.

 _Andromedia Steele_ was more than just a girl with a pretty face, her name triggered something in his mind and set off a pummel of fire that adrenaline could never compare to. His world had stopped spinning when his mother died, but when they'd found each other in a mutual effort of forgetting, his world sped up then and it hasn't stopped moving since. _Andromedia Steele_ was an anomaly of sorts, one he'd never dare to question.

He was willing to follow her to the ends of the earth, and he was certain she'd do the same for him. If anything were to become of them he knew he wouldn't be sitting around one day, passing on a reverie to his son of the girl he thought he once loved.

* * *

 **I made this on a whim, this is legitimately** **just the prologue and gives away nothing of what will be happening, eek I am bad at this. I am legitimately** **just writing a story about a girl who joins the group at the prison and then her story throughout that whole thing and Carl will be a main focus as well, and how he is feeling about everything and all of that stuff. I plan to take a different approach on Carl Grimes and sorry if he seem ooc in this story. I will try not to make this too cheesy or corny, and I am going to attempt to steer away from those cliche's and stuff but I don't know if I can. I have a lot going on now so I might not update this for a while, or at all. Depending on what you guys think. This is just a little snippet of what I had written from like forever ago, I just revamped it a bit. Please let me know if you'd like me to continue this and sorry if this is kind of weird, I didn't like edit it so yeah. Sorry for that, anywho, bye.**


	2. chapter one

A breathy groan, followed by a gurgling roar and the clanking of rotten skin against metal had filled her ears, she stood paralyzed, and the steady rise and fall of her chest had been the only sign of life in the frozen girl. She watched in fear, as the deteriorating being struggled in its last futile attempt of finding food to survive. It was the first time she'd seen one of _them_ since her mother died. It was the first time air could no longer sustain her, she was broken in an unfixable way and she could only imagine what would become of her if she gave in now.

It's been there for a while now, the aching thought that she'd shrugged away because her mother was always there to tell her what was right. She'd always been there to tell her that the world was a mixtures of winning and losing, that everything happened for a reason and that this was all merrily a test, just another way for the universe to shape you into the person you were to become. Suddenly it didn't make sense, any of it, right or wrong. Living, dying, it was all some pointless struggle.

Why should she fight? Continue on, try and live for a future that no one could promise her? What was stopping her from taking the gun her mother had left her out of her pocket and shooting herself? Why did she need to be the strong one, she was sick of being the strong one and it wasn't fair. None of this was. She wanted somebody to tell her the whole point of this killing, and living thing. Because even though she was breathing she'd hardly call this living, she was tired of fighting because that's all she'd ever done. Even before this, she had to be the strong one, somewhere in between she'd spent all of her time fighting she forgot to live. All she wanted, was a reason.

The fence wasn't going to hold, she needed to make a decision. She could take out her gun and kill herself, she could kill the walker and keep living, or she could wait for the walker to break down the fence and find it's rotten teeth some bony flesh to hold it over until it found its next unsuspecting victim. The first seemed to be the best option, she found her heart slowing as she pressed the gun to her head, and with one last fleeting hope she looked to the sky. She caught sight of the moon, and the stars, how they shined.

It's weird how the world has ended but the sun still rises, and sets, the moon still illuminates the night sky as if nothing changed. She wonders in this moment if the world knows just how terrible things have gotten, she wonders if the world knows that the human race was dying out, and suddenly she didn't want to die. She didn't want to live anymore, but she didn't want to die. That had been the beginning, the moment her heart had started turning to stone. It started with heart, and slowly began making its way through her body, she was turning to stone.

She finds it irritating, how comforting the flickering moon is. She finds it irritating that it had been the reason she didn't pull the trigger, and the only reason she still hasn't. She doesn't understand it and she's starting to think she never will because she has all these answers to the questions she'll never ask. All of her memories have turned into a jumble of dreams that collide to the point where she doesn't know when one begins and the other ends. It's that same with his eyes, she thinks.

She'd seen him before, but only for a few seconds. She caught glimpses and milliseconds of moments were he'd stayed long enough for her to piece together a picture. One that was simply a set of eyes, because they'd been the only thing she could grasp onto. He was never around for long, he was there for a moment, everywhere yet nowhere and it was moments like these, when she found herself lost in a metaphorical spiral does she think of him.

She's wasted thousands of seconds thinking up a conversation between the two and she'll waste thousands more, she was plotting, waiting and planning. For when the moment happened, she'd be ready. He was a magnificent specimen lined with tragedy going through a heavy case of circumstance, but he was beautiful in every cracked edge and bruised smile. She was like venom, and soon enough she'd inject her poison in his veins, and there'd be nothing left, because if she couldn't be whole, she'd tear him down and kill every good part of him.

She was evil in a way, just as treacherous as the demons they'd fended off for so many years, after all she was only just a girl made of stone, incapable of feeling what once laced every inch of her, she was ripped at every edge, and no one could tell if her fingers were the thing to ease them to sleep because not only were they soothing but excruciatingly comfortable. She was like poison, and she felt relief in the way she'd ruin others, she found ease in cold hearted malice. She was a traitor, just another monster and she wonders if they know just who they have sleeping under the same roof as them.

It was only fair, she thought. The world ruined her, so why couldn't she ruin the others? Especially when it was so easy? She had the world, laying in tiny broken pieces in her palm, her hands bleeding from all of the glass that cut her as she picked up what was left of the shattered sky.

She's stuck, she's stuck between hating herself and pitying the enervated way he believes she's all he'd ever need.

He wonders, if she knows how much he's whispered her name in the dark, how often he became breathless of merrily thinking about the way her intoxicating lips twitched as she tried to smile. He wonders if she'll ever know, he wonders if he'll ever be able to tell her how often he's studied her, watched her in awe as she spoke in labored riddles he'd never find the meaning to.

He'd die, if she ever found it, he thinks. A pink hue tinted his cheeks as he thought of just how embarrassed he'd be if she could peek into his brain. He'll never realize that the air she exhale's has turned into acid, and the promises she'd let die with her are just the beginning of the thunderstorm she plains on creating, and all the lives she plans on ruining. It was all just the beginning, leading up to the climatic desperation he'd feel clawing at him, seeking the truth.

What she doesn't know, is that he's already hers. He'll only ever be hers, his heart is broken, and flaking but it was beating and he was willing to offer it to her, she'll never understand why but he'd go through it all just to be hurt over and over again.

What she doesn't know is that he likes the high she gives him, he doesn't care what he needs to do to get it. He likes the poison she offers and that she's far from ruining him, because he's already ruined. Sure her gentle fingers are just another twist in the knife she'd plunged into his back, but he doesn't mind because the pain he's gotten used to.

What she'll never know is that he decided a long time ago, that he'd do anything for just a taste of what she'd had to offer.

"Andy, you have to get up, Carol needs your help."

It's the first time she's heard anyone call her _Andy_ in a long time and it makes her bitter, more bitter than usual, and she's ready to lash out on the first person she sees. Which happens to be Beth, the owner of the voice she's grown to despise. Beth's soft. She decided that, when she'd first spoke to her, and she stands by that.

"I'm up, I'm up," Her words are harsh and she's refraining from referring to Carol as an old bat, it's clear in her crystal brown eyes that she hates days like these. When she's confined to helping Carol cook breakfast, or wash the laundry. Its days like these when she wants to do nothing but everything she feels the most restricted. "And don't call me Andy."

It's the growl in her voice that makes Beth jump in surprise, she's heard it before, of course she's heard it before, everyone's heard it before. But this time it stirs something within Beth, something she doesn't particularly like. Even though Andromedia's voice is inching near hatred with every passing second, Beth won't stop. It's something in the addictive way she smiles, and pulls you in. She brings out the worst in people, and that's only one more reason to follow her, make her angrier and she's aware of it. Of course she's aware of it. Because she's noticed it before, especially in the way Daryl eyes her, or the other kids' face twist in frustration when they have something mean to say and they just can't get it out right.

She's heard it all before, and she's accepted it. No matter how much she hates it, no matter how much she hates herself, or the world she lived in, or the things she's resorted to doing. She'd asked for this, begged for it and she found it. Why wasn't it living up to her expectations?

It didn't take long for her to wipe the sleep from her eyes, she'd not only washed the dirt from her face, but glimpses and glances of the person she once was. When her shoes had been laced up, and she'd drained her mind of all the acrimonious thought's she had weaving themselves into her brain.

She held up a pale hand to block the sun from her dark eyes, almost as if they'd penetrate them and wash away all the evil lurking within them, but that was impossible for they, just like everything inside of her had turned to stone.

"Carol." It's clear she doesn't like her, it's in the way she speaks her name, hidden in all the narrowed glances she manages to sneak her way, when she isn't paying attention. It's simply because she's upset, Carol is a good person, with a bad past. Not only did her husband beat her but she lost her daughter, yet she continued on acting like a mom to all the other kids, and it wasn't fair. Andromedia knew this, even though her kid died, she'd always be a mother. It was part of her, and embedded into her core. Andromedia hated this most of her, it wasn't fair that she got to keep on being a mother but she'd no longer be a daughter because all of her family had died.

"I am glad you're here," _lies_. She's greeted with a tight lipped smile that never fades, and Andromedia hates it, it's just another thing to add to the list of reasons why Carol must get brutally mauled to death by walkers and then shot in the head fifty-four times. She's too nice, Andromedia had given her plenty of chances to lash out, she's spoken in harsh riddles hinting at the unspeakable. She'd almost went as far as to suggest that it was Carol's fault Sophia was dead, Carol didn't react. She smiled and pushed through, she just sat there and took it and Andromedia hated it, because if somebody spoke to her like this, she'd never be able to resist stabbing them in the eye.

"Yeah well, boss told me ya needed me and can't let her down." She'd referred to Beth as 'boss' many times before, because when Andromedia wasn't taking care of herself Beth was doing it for her. They were supposed to be friends, deep down Beth knew this, but Andromedia wanted nothing to do with her and the light she had to offer.

"You can start by making some oatmeal, I've got the water boiling, if you need anything just holler, I am going to be working on tonight's dinner. Daryl brought some deer and I've got a big pot of stew I need to make for our hungry prisoners." Her smile had found its way to her lips quickly, and the words she spoke were created with ease and Andromedia _hated_ it.

"Sure, thing." She mumbled rolling her eyes in petty annoyance. If Carol caught sight of the girl's rude behavior she gave no sign of it and when Carol turned her back Andromedia had half a mind to throw herself at a pile of knives on the counter and plunge one into her back. She refrained herself for killing another would just add to the list of reasons she hated herself. You see, Andromedia hated a lot of things, Carol was at the top of the list, but before her, before anything else was herself because she despised the monster she had become, but she was merrily a frozen fracture of what she once was. A girl coated in stone.

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 **Hello, so I don't own the walking dead and sorry nothing much happens in this. Let me know if you want me to continue. I am so sorry that I turned Andromedia into a complete nightmare, I legitimately** **hate this girl. Yet she's so fun to right, and I can not wait for the future. Let's just say she's gonna be breaking herself some hearts. Haha, anyways what do you think of her? I know she's kind of annoying and teetering on the edge of crazy, because she wants to kill everything that breathes but hey! Yeah, so hope you like this and please tell me what you think, I won't make the author notes so long next time, and sorry if this is bad, I am kind of delirious 'cause I am super sick right now and I didn't edit this, so yeah. Bye!**


	3. chapter two

Andromedia loved Wednesdays, it was the middle of the week, and her mother always took her out for ice cream. They spent the day together, and it was then that Andromedia felt the most loved. It wasn't often her mother wasn't able to shower her in affection due to her meandering job, and the stress it put on her when she was sure she didn't have enough money to pay the bills.

However, Andromedia was oblivious to this, her mother made sure of that. She never broke down in front of her, the hair tugging stress she'd feel was only ever allowed to come out when Andromedia was tucked in for the night and sleep had consumed her. Her mother gave up everything for her, and she'd never forget that. It was Wednesday's that Andromedia could give up a portion of her life for her mother, it was the only day of the week she could put a bandage on the internal wound that would never heal, because every day she spent being Andromedia's mother she was missing out on the life promised to her. She wonders if her mother could reverse her birth, if she would. If she'd be much happier without her, but that didn't matter much anymore did it? Because no matter what the world would ruin itself, an uncontrollable disease would be released and she'd die all over again.

She thinks about those days, when her mom would tap her nose and the melting ice cream she'd dabbed onto the tip of her finger would stick to it, or when the monsters under her bed wouldn't go away and her mom would play along, even though nothing was there. She thinks about how much fun they could have had together, and the future they should have had and it fills her with rage. A bubbling kind that isn't satisfied until the head of a zombie was smashed in by the end of her gun.

It's the days when the sun is at its peak and everything seems to be going fine does she think of how much better this place would be with her mother here, by now she's drowning in self-pity and she's three more tears she didn't want to fall away from going inside. It's then she sees him.

A flickering blue brighter than the sky itself, and his hair is sticking to his neck from the sweat the sun had stirred with in him, and her mother is long gone, the need to cry seems years away. He sees her looking and he's scared, absolutely terrified. She's petrifying in a different kind of way, one he doesn't quite understand and neither does the boy he's with because he can't see that the blue eyed boys' world is falling to pieces with every second he spends looking, afraid that hell only ever be able to look, it strikes fear within him as he looks into her eyes trying to read an emotion that isn't there.

He cuts him off mid-sentence, unaware of the hand that had been waved in front of his face moments before, "Good talk. I'll uh, see you later." As fast as his hand clasps against the boys shoulder it's gone because he's walking towards her and she's pulling him in with every breathless glance. He doesn't know that with every step his sinking deeper into the quick sand she'd splayed out in front of her. She's just watching, he's so close to falling in the whole she'd dug, and she's anticipating it, every moment she spends biting her lip in a futile attempt to defuse the situation at hand she's egging him on, _just a few more steps._

He's unaware of the mud gripping at his shoes and pulling him deeper, his oblivious to the devious smile she has hidden behind her eyes and perhaps its better that way. She'll ruin him, kill every good part of him he has left and he doesn't know it. Because he thinks he's already too far gone to have his heart shattered and mind broken, but she's a different kind of pain he's yet to feel.

He's in front of her now and he's certain she'll rattle off an excuse as to why they haven't met officially but she just stares, as if they weren't three feet away. What he doesn't know is that this is all part of the plan. _Silence._ He can't take it, he's spent a lifetime stuck in silence and every second they didn't talk he was adding years to the list, and he can't take it. He's tired of silence, so god damn tired. The anticipation is clawing at him, she'd spoken before but he's half expecting her to sound different. He's half expecting her coarse voice to be replaced by one of an angel's, and he doesn't mind when it isn't.

"Hey," it's something he'd been meaning to tell her, a simple word that could start off a magnificent conversation he wouldn't want to miss, but he soon finds conversing with her is impossible. She'll only tell you what she wants you to know, and perhaps it's best she stays a secret for this one.

"Greetings." Its then he falls, straight down the rabbit hole, setting himself up for the mind games she's yet to play on him and he's so damn ignorant it almost pains her. She's got him wrapped around her finger, and she's quite aware of it. He stands there unsure of what to say, his cheeks heating up as he looks for words that no longer made sense.

He's dreamed up so many conversations, words he'd say to her and he's at a loss because her eyes are darker than he thought and he can't help but search them, to try and decode the unreadable message she has hidden behind them. Every part of her is screaming for him to leave, to go before things get too far, but he can't hear her and she has no intentions of voicing her thoughts aloud.

The truth is she doesn't know what to say to him. She'd wasted a lifetime thinking about his blue eyes but they were much prettier to look at in person, he was glistening with promise and she was going to ruin that, rob him of the innocence he once had, suck every inch of life out of him until he's nothing and she's going to enjoy every second of it.

Its then he calls for him and like that he's gone, as if he never even existed in the first place. The only thing giving indication their brief meeting had even happened was the smile that'd found her way on her lips and the foot prints left in the dust she'll never stop looking at.

It's a weird thing, and it hurts almost to smile. The muscles in her mouth are sore from all the sour frowns she'd offered and she's certain that smiling wasn't supposed to be foreign. You were supposed to know exactly how to do it on instinct, but it takes effort to keep the smile she'd been dreaming up on her face longer than a few seconds. He's gone and she doesn't know why but everything feels cold despite the burning sun casting a fierce glow overhead.

He's breathless in a way that doesn't make sense to him and his labored breathing is all the indication that his father needs, he casts a suspicious glance at his son, and within seconds he'd registered the look in his eyes it scares him because he's all too familiar with it. This was no place for love, and he'd make sure his son knew that.

"Can you go help Glenn and Maggie with the fence, some people are going to be going on a run and we need to make sure that we clear some of the walkers before they leave." His father didn't sound like his dad, or at least not the one he knew. He was a soulless man a shell of what he was, turned mad by the daunting death of his wife. It shouldn't have shocked him, he'd lost so much to the world why did his wife's death mess him up as much as it did? It could have been a hit to his ego, that he couldn't protect her, for whatever reason it shouldn't have shocked him, they weren't really on best terms but his father loved her, and Carl knew that. He didn't understand it but he knew it.

"Sure thing." He's gone as quickly as he came, he's neither here or there, he's everywhere yet nowhere and no one can track him down because he's only doing something for a short period of time and he doesn't know it but she admires it. She admires how easy it is for him to move on and she'd give anything for that kind of strength.

What she doesn't know is that, he's not moving on but he's holding on dwelling on the memories that kill him the most, it's the only thing keeping him from crumbling under the pressure, it's the only thing keeping him there. It's the only thing he can do to keep the irreversible death of his mother out of his head.

This was all so unfair, a mistake. That's what it always was at the end of the day – a momentary slipup – a mistake created with the intentions of killing. They'd succeeded in an irrevocable way, because not only did millions of people die, but there still dying. He can't help but think about this, as he stares into their lifeless eyes, that once shone with the promise of innocence, oblivious to their inexorable fate.

It takes a second to think about the life these _things_ could have had, and it takes him only a second to end the unfortunate state of mind they were in now. There's so many of them, Carl's killed hundred's he's sure, but they keep coming, a relentless force ready to knock him down if he let it. Each time he stabs one in the head, each time the groan's lessen with every stab to the head, each time the little bit of twisted light leave's their eyes for the very second time he feels regret. His mother told him not to let the world ruin him, but he was already ruined, and thinking about what she'd say now it kills him.

This wasn't how any of this was supposed to happen, he was supposed to be fourteen, living at home with his parents, and baby sister, Judith. He was supposed to go to school every day, invite his friends over to play video games, probably play a sport or something. He was supposed to have this huge crush on the girl who were black hoodies, and large head phones, the one no one spoke to, until someone did and he was supposed to have his own cliché love story, but he didn't have that. He was stuck in a horror movie, and he wonders how the world had mixed it up so much. He'd exchange the sappy romantic movie playing in another lifetime, for this one any day. Despite the utter cheesiness of it, at least everyone he knew would still be alive, and that would be worth it. Despite the crappy dialogue, and the inevitable chorus of boos as the movie ended, and the guy got the girl. He was waiting for this movie to end, because its' been going on for too long, he thinks.

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 **Hey, so I was going through the last chapters and editing them, and guess what? There's a paragraph in the prologue that starts with, 'she isn't evil' but then in the first chapter there is a paragraph that says 'she is evil' lol so I forgot to be all like, oh yeah don't worry about that's just what Carl thinks opposed** **to what Andromedia thinks so sorry 'bout that. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for the reviews!**


	4. chapter three

The moon overhead casts a faint light, soon to be dimmed by the black of the night. It's windy and her tangled hair is a mess flying around her head, but her eyes are crystalized fractures of hope, she hadn't inhibited for a long time. There's something about watching the moon that does something to her, perhaps it's the sign she'd begged for over and over again, or maybe it's just a coincidence, that the only thing keeping her firmly planted to the ground is the large rock in the sky. Or maybe it'd be her down fall, just another reason for her to float away as if she never existed in the first place. But that wouldn't make any sense, know would it?

He sees her, in a light he didn't think possible and she doesn't know it. Because not only can he physically see her, but metaphorically as well and she's beautiful. This place was no stranger to ugly, everything beautiful was wiped out a long time ago, or so he thought. She's like the butterfly he's sees on occasion, the one he was sure shouldn't be there. Because in a world that demented zombies walked the earth wasn't one that butterflies belonged in.

He's scared to say it, that he thinks she shouldn't be here. What he doesn't know is that she's not as beautiful as he thinks, perhaps quite the opposite. They have a different way of seeing things, Andromedia and Carl. He sees a raw treasure, with dirt smudged on it, and she see's coal. Dark enough to burn through the minds of anyone who threatened her. What he didn't know was that there was some sort of evil lurking within her, why else would she still be here? Because he'd figured it right, didn't he? That everything beautiful had been wiped out a long time ago, therefore it made no sense she was here. There had to be a rotten side of her Carl wasn't entirely sure he wanted to see.

It's then she sees him, not in the way he'd saw her. Because to her he's simply there, just another toy to provide her with entertainment, just another mind to ruin and she looks forward to it. There's this lurching in her stomach that prevents her from smiling, she's not sure why it's there but it is and it won't go away. Not as long as his blue eyes are transfixed on her, a creature of which shouldn't be allowed to be around such a presence. Especially with the intention to kill on her mind.

He's gone, just like he always is and she can't seem to figure out why it hurts her, why she doesn't want him to go. She doesn't have time to think about it because the moments gone and she can hear the groaning of the walkers, and she's brought back to earth. She's gone then, leaving her body, to go to a place only her mind can dream up. What she doesn't know is that he and her, are more alike than she'd originally thought.

She's out of ideas when morning comes, far too caught up in her own world to notice that the members of her group had returned but with fewer people than they'd started. Because today is one of those days, when she's blankly going through her day, the repetition slowly driving her insane. The one in which she wants to talk to him so badly but doesn't trust the words she's willing to let slip out of her mouth.

She's sure the prison fence will do her head in, and what she'd give for a taste of nature, one she hadn't received in a long time because they don't trust her enough to leave her out there on her own. Or maybe they just don't want to see another life stolen, or perhaps it's because she's no use to them in the woods and she'd better just leave that to Daryl. She'd accepted it, but it'd irritated her. Sort of like a scratch that she couldn't itch, she'd been in the woods all the time before she stumbled upon her "salvation" maybe it was just instinct now, to want to go out there. Or maybe it was plain curiosity, because if she'd play house long enough, perhaps the world would adapt the way she had and for some miraculous reason the zombie apocalypse would end and they could all return to their lives as it was before.

It's not, she knows it's not, but she can hope, and hope is what she does. What she doesn't know is that the others do it too, sometimes they forget before they remember and everything just comes crashing down in a pile of crumbling wreckage and insanity. What she doesn't know is there all the same and they all have days worse than others, it's perhaps why they've been so lenient, and didn't stop to question why she'd had so many bad days, ones that could never outweigh the good ones. It'd become second nature now, one in which you weren't supposed to question why a teenage girl was always bitter.

They could play house all they wanted, but life would never return to normal, not while the diseased where still out there. It's all just a matter of time before their inevitable end comes, perhaps it was a pick of fate that had kept them sturdy for so long. But nothing ever stays good for long. Surely their luck would change, and any moment now things would come crashing down and they'd be reminded of what once was could never be once again.

She keeps forgetting that she's one of _them_ now. She's supposed to care for everyone in her group, but in honesty she didn't even know half of their names. She had no strings attached, and so maybe that's why it was so hard for her to connect with anyone else, in a way that would leave her shattered if something were to go wrong. Because let's face it, that's all it took. One misstep – a miss calculation if you will - and everything comes crashing down, because what goes up, must come down.

He's sorry, sorry that Beth had to lose someone else, and he's sorry that he doesn't care. He's sorry that he doesn't feel a thing, because somewhere in between his concept of time got muddled and the line between life and death had blurred. He's confused, and he's hurt. Today's been terrible. One he couldn't sum up using any other word, because everything is bad. Today he'd spent a day in his head, and he'd picked off scabs from wounds that should have healed years ago.

He thought he'd accepted it, that he'd never grow up like his father had and he was dammed to a life of hell. But he hadn't. The more he thinks about it, the more unfair it becomes, why should he have to give up what little bit of normalcy they'd been blessed with because the world couldn't get its shit together?

He was upset for all the wrong reasons and that just made him angrier. He didn't want to see anyone, not Judith, his dad, or even her. He didn't want them to see who he'd become. He didn't care that Beth lost another boyfriend, in fact he probably wouldn't even care if his actual friends were killed. It'd come to the point where nothing could ever be good again, and because it'd happened so much all of the bad things had started losing meaning. Kind of like with words, shouldn't actions be the same thing? Killing had become such a normal thing now it's sort of lost its meaning hasn't it? He's upset because with every passing second he doesn't care that they've added another innocent name to the list of unfair deaths he's slowly becoming what he'd feared.

What she doesn't know is that deep inside somewhere she cares, she cares for the people that took her in and as much as she'd loved to see Carol stabbed in the head she'd be pretty sad to see the woman go. She doesn't know it, or understand it but it's there, and in this way she and Carl are exactly alike.

What he doesn't know is that he's not the only one slowly losing himself to the poison dipped needle he'd been poked with the minute this whole thing started. He doesn't know that there is a part of him who stopped caring, and this pain isn't making him feel alive. He needs something good to remind him that his heart is still beating and he can still feel like that, all the pain is making him and numb, coating him in a sheet of ice and in this way, he and Andromedia are exactly alike.

He doesn't want to see her but she doesn't care, she's been trying to intercept his path all day and somehow he keeps escaping her. Saved by the call of his name, or sudden movement she hadn't calculated. It's as if he changed his mind and realized she'd been the reason he was coughing up water, she'd been the reason he'd drowned, and he was just now waking up. It upset her, perhaps it was because he didn't want to be a pawn and they were actually more different than she thought. Or maybe she was upset because she liked him, not just because she wanted to ruin him, but she genuinely liked him and she hadn't experienced that in a while. Maybe it's why she was so bent on finding him and having a conversation with him.

He doesn't want her to see, and that's all he can think. He doesn't want her to know and she won't get the hint and he's so tired. He's tired of hiding the monster that's been managing to surface, and he's tired of hiding from her. He wanted – no needed – her to be the one person he could be himself with and he's scared she'll run away like all the times he'd imagined this moment. But she's persistent and Carl close to giving up.

She knows there's something wrong, by the way he refuses to meet her eyes, or anyone's for that matter. She's relieved that he isn't angry at her but her victories short lived because he's still upset and she has no idea why. Maybe it's because of that boy who died, the one she couldn't remember the name of.

"Hello, Carl." It's the way she says his name, or perhaps it's the way it rolls of her tongue but he's never heard anyone say it like this and he's feeling better. Much better, because her tone is understanding and she's only said two words but he has the feeling that a paragraph is written behind the smile she's yet to show him. He was so used to everyone associating disappointment or shame with his name but she doesn't show any of it, and his heart's beating out of his chest. He looks up and for a moment he can't see what registers in her eyes but the way she's looking at him kind of scares him.

She sees it, it's small and dark but somewhere deep within his gorgeous blue eyes is a tint of darkness and she's seen it, oh my god she's seen it. She's seen it in her eyes, in the walkers eyes, she's seen it in every flickering star, and she's seen it in the muddled puddles that barely provides an adequate looking glass. She can't be in his presence anymore and she's gone, before he can say anything to reassure she's gone. It leaves a whole in his heart, one too large to be fixed up because she wasn't the person he thought she was. But he'd known her for a month now, and he's exchanged two words with her, how could he ever possibly think, he knew her?

* * *

 **Hello, so I know I haven't updated in a while but I've been working on this I promise. I started it Monday and I've been working on it in study hall, which is where I am posting this now. I hope you like this and look forward to another update soon.**


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